MF1.0 - 61 - Time and Again
‘Enough father, I’m tired.’ Kane looked at the last bucket of water in front of the gaunt young man. ‘One more, then you can rest.’ Oliver pulled against his bonds. ‘I have nothing left.’ ‘Then you’re even weaker than I thought.’ His “son” laughed. ‘Is this how you’re going to treat me until I die?’ ‘Are you even going to die, you freak?’ Oliver closed his eyes and the room began to shake. Slowly, the walls decayed and fell away. Grass crept up through the cracks in the floor and the sun, hidden behind red cloud, shone down on them. ‘What have you done?’ ‘Nothing, father, I just don’t want you to forget what I am.’ He lifted a blackjack and struck the boy across the face. ‘Stop calling me that, I am not your father.’ Oliver stood from the chair, free from his bonds. ‘You used to be. You used to be my dad. You loved me once.’ ‘You’re nothing but a bastard child. You’re not mine, you are your mother’s sin.’ Oliver stooped and threw a chunk of floor out into the ruined landscape. ‘Time takes who he wants, it’s as simple as that. Mum had no choice in the matter, why don’t you stop blaming the wrong person?’ ‘She didn’t have to lie to me.’ The boy picked up the water bucket and drank deeply from it. ‘Are we going to have the same conversations over and over? Are you…incapable of moving beyond your own hatred?’ He tuned away from the boy. ‘Whe…when is this?’ Oliver shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Future. It’s quiet, I like coming here.’ ‘It looks like we’ve lost.’ ‘Or come to your senses.’ He hit him with the blackjack again. ‘We know what we’re doing, boy, just you remember that. You’re the abomination.’ ‘Abomination. Bastard. Sin. Rape child. Mum would hate you if she could hear you. Not that you’d care.’ He went silent for a moment. ‘Did you send her my letters?’ Oliver’s letters – they were a concession they had given him on the condition that he would stop aging the guards and attempting escapes. ‘Yes,’ he replied gruffly, ‘I sent them.’ The boy stepped out of the remnants of the room. Half a dozen butterflies flew past his face. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘it’s not so far in the future that the gods have abandoned us.’ He reached through the barrier – he never dared to step into the other timeframes – and snatched one of the butterflies. He crushed it and dropped the remains. ‘Good analogy, they’re all just insects to be crushed.’ Oliver stared at a weed and wiggled his fingers. The weed wiggled, then shot up and flowered, he managed a smile, then turned the flower to ash. ‘Oliver!’ he snapped. ‘Yes, Kane, yes,’ the boy mumbled and the future landscape around them dissolved. He blinked and looked around the room, they were back in the present again. ‘No, Kane, no. We never left.’ ‘How did you-?’ ‘You always ask. Can I sleep now, father?’ He looked down at the empty bucket, but nodded nonetheless. ‘Just be prepared to do more later.’ Turning, he walked from the cell and slammed the door shut behind him. He returned to his “office” and looked at the letters on the desk. Oliver’s letters to his mother. Oliver’s letters to his dead mother. He tore them up and dropped the pieces into the bin. Category:MF1.0